


Longest Night

by LindirsArchives



Series: Night In The Woods [1]
Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Dissociation, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Inspired by Night In the Woods, Late Night Writing, Panic Attacks, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28696308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LindirsArchives/pseuds/LindirsArchives
Summary: That night, Holden dreamt
Series: Night In The Woods [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2103474
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Longest Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, Mindhunter fandom! I'm late to the party but better late than never, right?
> 
> Anyway, this is my first Mindhunter fic and it's heavily inspired by the Night in the Woods supplemental game; Longest Night. Y'all should check them out! I wanted to experiment a little with potraying mental illnesses and I took heavy inspirations from NITW and Mae's condition
> 
> I deeply apologize for the low quality and very inaccurate potrayal of everything, this is my first time writing these kind of fics and it's mainly experimental for now. There's 6 other fics in the works for this series but I guess we'll have to wait and see!

That night, Holden dreamt

He hadn't dreamt in a while, mostly due to the fact he got less than needed hours of sleep nowadays. What with the Atlanta case, the tension and his coworkers' general dislike of him, and his general mental wellbeing kicking him early to his grave

It would be pathetic if he just died here and there because of his incompetence to remember how to properly breathe. Doctors kept telling him the relapses are normal, that his mental state was fractured beyond repair. He knew that, has known that for the longest time, he knew his mind was fucked up ever since he was 14, the moment he first picked up a newspaper article about a woman who was brutally murdered and felt nothing about it. He was sick, that he knew, but he didn't think it would be this bad

His dreams were weird. Sometimes he dreamt of shapes, not even people or buildings, just shapes. There are other times he dreamt of murder scenes, blood, his hands tainted in red as he held a knife, everything around him destroyed and the moon shining above him, giving him the full view of his shadow, and there were weird music, songs playing from various bands with muffled lyrics, and it felt calming, peaceful and, if he was being honest, he felt right at home. But this time, it was different. He dreamt about him and his coworkers. They were sat around the familiar table of the office, Gregg right beside him while they sat across Bill and Wendy. This was the first time they've ever entered his dreamscape

In fact, it didn't feel like a dream. It felt so close to reality, as if Holden never slept and this was him living the moment

They were in casual attire, or as casual as they could be, well at least he knew Bill wore than typical Hawaiian motive shirt that he would see most 50 years old men wear. What surprised him was the placement of their seatings, Gregg being closest to him, which made sense now that he thought about it. Gregg was the only one of the other three that would even strike up a conversation with him after he fucked up in Atlanta

The table was in the middle of nowhere, no longer in the tight confinement of the basement. Holden relished in the free air, the night sky with the stars and the moon upon him, bathing him in the calm and cool air. He knew to some extent that it was a dream, but he couldn't help but let himself be convinced that this was reality and everything was okay, that he never got sick and he never fucked up

His mind worked up that this was his reality

It's better that way

"This is new" He heard Bill stated as he looked up to the stars, smoke still between his fingers

"Well, what's wrong with new?" Wendy teased, a glass of wine swirled in her right hand

"Nothing, just odd" Silence once again. But instead of the usual awkward silence, there was the comforting presence, relaxed and loving, between the four. No hate, no one despised no one, it felt great. Holden wanted to say something, tell them something, hell he needed to. They hated him, why were they suddenly nice to him?

"I'm sorry" The three turned their attention towards him the moment the words dropped out of his mouth, as if they were expecting it. He felt himself tense but he had to continue on

"I'm sorry... About everything. I'm sorry about being an egocentric piece of shit, I-I thought I was doing the right thing by putting my mind to the case 100%, but instead I undermined everything else, I said words I shouldn't have said, I thought and felt things I shouldn't even thought about, I undermined authority, broke rules, and I was so insensitive towards Bill, I-"

"Holden" Bill's voice rang through his ears as he looked up to see the three of them looking at him with thay flat expressions, except for Gregg whose expression softened to a smile. Holden hadn't realized he had been crying until he rubbed his eyes

He was crying. Huh.

Silence once again. Holden had stopped trying to apologize, knowing the reactions would be the same; indifference dismission, and he didn't know whether to feel better or worse, instead he just took in the moment where no one hated him for once, where he felt at peace with himself, where there wasn't a time when he wanted to drag the razor across his arms just to get a good grip on reality

The stars twinkled as he felt his breathing calm for once in his goddamn life. He was a mess, he was such a mess that this seemed like his perfect cookie cutter life, where everyone didn't hate him and it was calm. How fucked was his life that he based his entire sanity on the others hating him or not? Bill hated him, Wendy mildly disliked him, Gregg... Gregg at least had decency, but also Gregg was nice to everyone, which wasn't exactly great competition. It calmed him to think that for a moment, that hatred just poofed to nowhere and that he actually had at least some form of respect

His father had told him that earning people's respects would be hard, he was also the one that convinced Holden he would never equate to any amount, which was a mixed bag in itself. Now he saw what his dad meant when he told him he didn't deserve them, he had flown too close to the sun and everything good he ever had burned before his eyes before he himself was burned

His mind wandered to his father, who was in no doubt dead. It's been years since he last saw the man and the last time he saw him was when he was leaving for college and the man had cursed him off in a storm, the man was also suffering from a chronic illness at that time. His mother, the one who still had enough in her heart to love him, told him about his passing. He attended the funeral, a little rain but overall indifferent. Stayed for long hours to comfort her crying every night for 2 weeks. His mind then wandered to his mother and the thought of calling her made his stomach fuzzy with warmth, the thought of returning to his mother's comforting hands tempted him to pick up the phone and called, jump on a train and just leave

"You have to call home" Gregg suddenly told him out of nowhere, and his mind turned jumbled. What? What did he mean?

_I don't want to call home_

"You don't wanna call home" Bill echoed, his voice familiar yet he said what he had thought. Everything started to turn blurry

_I have work tomorrow_

"You have work tomorrow" Wendy reminded. Something was wrong, everything felt as if they were mixed up all wrongly, his stomach started churning

_I don't want to go to work_

"You don't want to go to work" Again, Bill echoed what he thought and Holden could feel himself losing himself

_I want to quit work_

"You want to quit work" Gregg's voice sounded softer than he liked and he started spiralling down even more. And it went on like that in pattern; Gregg, Bill, Wendy, and repeat, all saying what he had been thinking during the day and the things he wanted to forget

"You're running out of pills" Gregg taunted him in the most fatherly voice

"It's going to lose its effects"

"You're going to ruin everything if you don't straighten up"

"Don't forget to actually eat"

"You're an annoyance and embarassment"

"A burden to the development of the research"

"You have an appointment at 3 pm with the new psychiatrist"

"You're a psychopath. Defective"

"Do you even have emotions? Other than sad ones?"

"Stop fucking up, things will be better if you do better"

"You miss us"

"Pull yourself together"

"Pick up laundry at 6 pm"

"You served nothing but trouble, and you've proven that"

"Breathing is hard"

"You should get your cuts checked, it burns and it's bleeding again"

"Why did you do it? Too difficult for you to handle?"

"When did you get so pathetic, Holden Ford?"

"Pancakes are good. You should make pancakes for breakfast"

"Are you even listening, asshole?"

The voices. _God the VOICES._ They echoed through his mind, taunting him. His previous peace was broken and replaced with the rapid strings of curses and demands and voices of his thoughts in the form of his coworkers' own voices. His thoughts screamed in his head, they were a mess, scrambled through his mind like a broken tape. Everything went too fast, the open air suddenly felt too tight around, his throat constricted and he could feel another panic attack coming in as his breathing turned ragged and his eyes bewildered

"Wake up, Holden" Wendy's call felt more echoed as it passed and Holden realized he was losing himself. Nothing made sense anymore, nothing.

"Wakey wakey!" Gregg also called, echoed but softer, and it made Holden feel as if fading was okay for once

"WAKE UP-" And with Bill's gruff yell, Holden felt himself drown

In the real world, there was the apartment phone ringing, and Holden shot up his bed. He felt his hand reach for it and when he heard the voice, he heard Bill's familiar one

"Holden, where the fuck are you?! I've been trying to call you for an hour, why didn't you answer?! You f-" Holden lost his attention in the middle of the rant, stared off to space and remembered his dream. It was... Weird, but it made him feel much worse than yesterday

"Are you even listening?!" He didn't snap out of his thoughts, just responded with a quick-

"Yeah"

"Whatever. You need to get yourself together, or else you'll really be in trouble" The line ended and Holden didn't realize how long he's been sitting on the edge of his bed, all he knew was that he slowly sighed and stood up wobbly and oddly sweaty

He thought about the words Gregg, Bill, and Wendy said in his dream, or rather, the fabrication of his thoughts mashed together in one scene. He was miserable, he knew that. Was it time to reconsider? Now that he thought about it, eveyone hated him, he had no one to hold onto. Should he tell them his thoughts? Let it be his dramatic exit from the office? Let them know Boy Wonder wasn't fit to even be a functioning adult?

No. He couldn't quit then, he can't quit now

He wanted to, at least, he thought he wanted to, but he worked his ass off to get this job, it had been his dream job since he was a boy, and it still was. But he didn't even know anymore. Everything felt as if they're all just shapes, shapes that don't make sense and only serve to remind him how much of a terrible burden he is. He was a pattern-finder, but nowadays nothing came in patterns anymore, just random shapes that made no sense

Holden let out a sigh he was holding, glanced at the clock, indicating it was 12 pm. He knew he needed to go, he didn't want to, but he needed to. Things would still stay the same, at least he could find comfort in that

"Well, I'm off" He said to himself, mainly to pull himself back into reality before he continued his morning routines, forcing himself to even get out of the hot showers and put on clothes

He entered the very stagnant air of the office and felt himself somewhere in a torturing chamber, but there was no killer or maniac, just the sharp eyes of his coworkers behind his back. He was miserable, yes, he needed help, yes, but what was he supposed to do when he's at the end of everything? When there's nothing to hold onto?

"Morning, Holden" He heard Gregg greeted him in the same fatherly, friendly smile he always had. Holden didn't see, or rather, didn't notice

"Gregg" It was all he could muster up, which made Gregg look up, concerned at the disinterest, but Holden didn't notice a thing, he just kept staring into the same page of the profile of a recently captured murderer

That day, all Holden saw was shapes, no humanoid figure, just shapes, even as Bill, Wendy, and Gregg have their conversations and laughter circle as they discuss something, Holden stared into open space and just saw shapes moving, talking in incomprehensive languages, no familiarity whatsoever, and he could hear yelling and grunts and sighs. It felt as if nothing was there for him to understand anymore, just shapes and more echoes. Disappointed at him, every breath was disappointed at him

_Get your shit together_

_Straighten up!_

_Stop being an ungrateful brat!_

Holden felt himself break, but he knew better than to snap in half in front of the people that despised him, and kept his voice low and his eyes downcasted, away from the shapes, his breathing heavy and he could tell someone was complaining about how he couldn't take a simple fucking talk without breaking down. He spent the entire day on desk duties, sorting out paperworks and recent research results, which was good. It was stability, he missed stability. He lost everything that he could even remotely consider stability the moment Debbie broke up with him. And now that his three colleagues, ones he considered friends before, were gone, he had no one and nothing left

Holden Ford had lost everything, and he had nothing left to hold onto

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment~


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